Land of Hot Water

"Refugees from the north have driven rice prices through the roof." The old woman selling fruit hunched over as she wiped the shriveled persimmons in her bamboo basket.

Her clouded eyes swept over the ragged people in the street, refugees who had fled the border.

The vendors had drawn the curtains over their stalls early, and hammer blows rang out from the blacksmith's shop as it reinforced its door bolts. The whole street reeked of panic and hunger.

Amid the mottled light and shadows in the corridor, Utsusemi sat cross-legged and unrolled a specially made scroll.

Since taking up temporary residence in the Land of Hot Water, she had used Medical Ninjutsu to cure three nobles of their stubborn gout.

She had also used the trade in porcelain and glassware to quietly introduce modern craftsmanship into the nobles' daily lives.

What flowed from her brush was not merely ink, but also the threads she had planted while repairing barriers.

As caravans and relay horses traveled, an invisible network wove intelligence and influence into the center of power.

The wind chime's clapper beneath the eaves was resonating at a dangerous frequency. This was the fifth chain reaction caused by the earth's veins running wild.

Ever since the Senju and Uchiha front lines had advanced to the Land of Hot Water's border, even the steam rising from the hot springs had carried the rusty smell of blood.

Itama stood silent in the middle of the sitting room, motionless as a shadow before the shoji doors.

The Hand Seal Utsusemi held had activated the defensive barrier around the entire inn.

The instant Uchiha Izuna's blade cut through the curtain of rain, the Chakra along its edge vaporized the raindrops into white mist.

Tobirama Senju's Flying Thunder God Kunai was burying itself in the spot where Izuna had stood a second before.

The light of the bursting Chakra turned the water beneath their feet into mist. The Mangekyō Sharingan flickered through the steam like a candle nearly burned out.

His ragged breathing mingled with the rain, but he stared fixedly at the blue-glowing Kunai in Tobirama's hand.

That pattern looked familiar. He seemed to have seen it somewhere before.

His surging emotions scattered his thoughts in an instant, and a phantom emerged in the steam.

Uchiha Izuna's pupils contracted sharply, but the phantom vanished in an instant. Only the blue light flickering on Tobirama's Kunai remained, piercing his retinas.

The time to hand out porridge quietly arrived, and Utsusemi sorted through the coarse grains and brown rice Itama had stockpiled in the Spacetime Tower's lobby.

She poured the mixed grains into a dark iron pot, and the aroma of cooking rice and porridge rose from it. Brown rice and wild chestnuts knocked together with a muffled sound in an earthenware jar.

"Drink slowly. Careful, it's hot." As she handed out bowls, she kept her skin three millimeters from the refugees'. Their hunched spines curved like question marks, and none dared look directly into those Tenseigan.

The faintly glowing eyes were rendering the battlefield two li away visible.

Unlike her detached observations in the early days after her transmigration, now the eyes of the dying were all reflected in hers.

Killing intent, despair, and death lingered in the information those eyes gathered.

It made Utsusemi instinctively look at the refugees with chilling killing intent, yet also with a measure of pity.

That contradiction gave her a most intimidating presence: her beauty was elevated by her inhuman quality, while restraint made her all the more terrifying.

When Tobirama Senju's Flying Thunder God Slash tore across Uchiha Izuna's chest, the burst of Chakra lit up the battlefield in every detail.

Blood spraying from Uchiha Izuna blossomed into eerie flowers on the frozen earth. His increasingly unfocused eyes still reflected the flash of steel, while his fingers, veins bulging, seemed almost fused to his sword.

Madara Uchiha blasted Hashirama Senju's Wood Release Clone aside with his Gunbai, just in time to see droplets of his younger brother's blood form a garland of mournful crimson in the moonlight.

"Izuna!" The Perfect Susanoo's roar shattered the cliff face, and the hurricane raised by its giant purple sword flattened the zelkova forest.

"Madara!" Hashirama Senju's roar echoed through the mountains. No "Hashirama" carrying lingering warmth of feeling answered him again; only Hashirama's bloodstained voice pierced the smoke of battle: "Only if the two clans unite..."

"U...nite?" The blood Izuna coughed up dripped down, and his barely audible words were steeped in indifference.

"Brother... the Senju want to strangle the Uchiha's pride with a pact..." Pale fingers gripped Madara's sleeve. "Don't... look at them..."

Madara Uchiha's Mangekyō froze. Purple Chakra surged into the sky as he turned.

Hashirama Senju saw Izuna complete one last seal with trembling hands.

The retreating Uchiha left bloodstains scattered across the snow like the pattern of a Sharingan.

Late that night, a wealthy merchant acquainted with Utsusemi pounded urgently on her door. He told her the terrible news that his beloved wife had developed a high fever that would not break, and begged Utsusemi to come at once.

Under the dim yellow light of an oil lamp, Itama was scrambling to prepare for the emergency house call. The seven-year-old child crushed antibiotics in a rough earthenware bowl.

Utsusemi watched the pregnant woman, whose fever had not abated, struggle to swallow the powdered medicine. Her brow furrowed involuntarily; she knew the drugs might harm the fetus.

But without prompt treatment, the pregnant woman might well die from the fever. And her life took precedence over that of the unborn fetus!

This was the most basic medical ethics!

Her Yin-Yang Release had not yet reached the point where it could cure illness, while her Medical Ninjutsu specialized in external and internal injuries and could do nothing against systemic inflammation.

Her Tenseigan suddenly trembled violently, and she jerked a hand up to press against her eye socket.

The aftershock of the distant battle was reflected in her irises. After she formed Hand Seals, a barrier instantly enveloped the mansion.

When the blast wave struck the barrier, the porcelain in the room hummed. The barrier kept the blast wave outside.

"Sister, your eyes..." Itama frowned.

In the child's clear eyes, the increasingly bright, deep-blue glow in Utsusemi's eyes was reflected.

His expression was just like his older brothers', especially the solemn look Tobirama wore when lost in thought.

That beautiful, deadly halo was in a delicate balance with the explosion ten li away.

Outside the barrier, an entire row of trees had been reduced to clouds of dust by the blast, while inside, the pregnant woman's breathing gradually grew steady.

Madara Uchiha carried the gravely wounded Izuna on his back across the battlefield. Drops of blood kept seeping from the young man's wound, trailing a broken crimson path across the scorched earth.

Uchiha Izuna's breathing grew fainter and fainter as Madara pressed his bare hand against the gushing wound on his younger brother's chest.

The foreign Chakra lingering there was forming black-purple veins, devouring his last vestiges of life at a speed visible to the naked eye.